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Letters to the Church Magazine: September 2015

I was clearly not at the PCC meeting where it was agreed that the Vicar can wear a short-sleeved clerical shirt. This may be because the Vicar organised the meeting surreptitiously and held the vote in a clandestine manner.

Or it could be because I resigned from the PCC over the reordering of the rosebeds in 1987, and have not stood since, and have therefore missed the appropriate meeting.

Or possibly the shirtings of the clerical class are not matters to be discussed at PCCs. Maybe the PCC are not competent to consider such important things? Clearly the current members of the PCC aren’t competent, but at least they should be consulted? I insist that the PCC apply for a faculty. No vicar has worn a short-sleeved shirt since the unfortunate event with Father Thomas when he used the paper guillotine in the vestry without training.

Yours etc,

Fennel Bailey, The Old Orchard House, Great Tremlett
Dear Sir

I have just returned from an exciting weekend camping at Greenbelt!

Quite why an arts festival is held on the hard shoulder of the M25 is beyond me. And clearly people did not trust the weather, as I was the only one there. But exciting nonetheless.

Yours etc

Tom Cobley-Anhall, “Tweezers”, Grilsby-on-the-Hill

Dear Sir

I am the eggman, I am the eggman.
I am the walrus.

Yours etc

Dolores Measle, “Chafing”, Old Street, Woodby

Dear Sir

I should like to point out that the August church barbecue was not “cancelled”, as the last Church notices indicated. It was merely poorly attended, due to the horrendous thunderstorms and torrential rain. The Petersons are made of stern stuff. Just because all the other churchgoers stayed at home did not stop me proceeding with the barbecue just as Little Tremlett has since 1633.

Of course, the rain meant it was almost impossible to keep the charcoal at the correct temperature. Which meant that the chicken wings gave me a serious case of food poisoning. But as luck would have it, I was completely unaware of the E Coli infection as I was in an artificially-induced coma, after the barbecuing equipment was struck by lightning.

Next year, I hope the people of Little Tremlett will step up to the plate (pun intended) and not let a little bad weather put them off!

Yours etcChesney Peterson, Walnut Grove, Lt Tremlett

Dear Sir

The Vicar’s sermons are boring at the best of times. But that last Sunday was a record 12 minutes 42 seconds long, as recorded by the best electronic stopwatches. It was so dull we had to throw buckets of water over several members of the choir after the service.

Yours etc

Ciara Meringe, The Old Stables, Gt Tremlett

Dear Sir
People have been telling me how boring the Vicar’s sermons have been, but I protest! I find they have vastly improved since I have been eating some of Mrs Dumpling’s seed cake before services.

I say “seed cake” because one of the ingredients comes from the plants that grew from the special bird seed I purchased recently on a trip to Holland. We think it may have stimulant properties. Certainly it seems to make the vicar more interesting! I barely heard a word of his last sermon.

Yours etc

Major J Dumpling, “Rodney’s Rest”, Lt Tremlett

Dear Sir
The harvest is upon us! And in our rural parts of the country, the age-old story of soil and fruitfulness continues. I have written a poem to celebrate.

The combines, plodding o’er the lee
To gather cereals for bread for tea
Monstrous machines, working in the light
Then crashing on into the night
Though life they bring for you and me
It’s death and devastation for rabbit and bee
Slaughtering wildlife as they go
The panicked birds fly to and fro
And homeless fox cubs stand and cry
As the harvester goes crashing by.
Death, death, death, death.
Death, death, death, death.
Death, death, death, death.
Death, death, death, death.”